


I'd Be Home With You

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 06:38:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick's having a rough time, and Negan's there for him- not to fix it, but to keep him going.





	I'd Be Home With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vendekk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vendekk/gifts).



> A small something for a friend (and for myself, too, because depression is rough)

“Rick. Babe.”

It was still dark out, Rick could tell even with his eyes still tightly closed and blankets bunched around him nearly up to his ears. It if wasn’t, if the sun had started to rise, it would have woken him up and he’d be trudging over in socked feet to yank the blinds closed so he could sleep a little longer. He hated sleeping with the sun in his eyes.

But no- it was dark, late enough into autumn that they’d changed their clocks and now whenever it was time to wake up and take Judith to school, the sky was still an inky midnight blue that made the heavy bruise-like circles beneath Rick’s tired eyes ache with weariness. It made it that much harder to pull himself from the warm bed and wake his sleeping daughter, harder to keep himself from dreading every second that he would have to be in the car even if it was only a ten-minute drive to her school, harder to keep himself from crawling right back into bed and sleeping until well past noon like Carl had when he’d still lived at home.

The thought was enough to make Rick curl into himself and dig the tips of his gnawed-on fingers into the mattress.

Negan spoke again, closer this time, with one warm hand on Rick’s shoulder shaking him gently. “Rick. C’mon, hon. Judith’s already dressed and ready to go.”

It was then that it hit him- his alarm hadn’t gone off. Panicked, he sat up enough to crane his neck and glimpse the red numbers glowing on his bedside table- _7:49 am._

It was guilt that got him out of bed, even with his limbs heavy as lead and threatening to drag him right down to the cold hardwood floor. _Stupid_ , he thought savagely as he rushed downstairs to see Judith, her curly hair pulled into neat pigtails that only Negan knew how to do to her liking, her rainbow backpack already poised on her shoulders as she waited by the front door. _Stupid, stupid, not setting the alarm. Selfish, making Negan take care of it all when he’s the only one working-_

He batted back the intrusive thoughts as best he could, knowing that _that_ particular train of thought would only hinder him in getting Judith to school on time.

“We’re gonna be late, daddy,” Judith chirped as they stepped out the front door. She said it so innocently, not meaning to accuse, but Rick felt it knock him down a peg anyway. After so many months of feeling like this, he was constantly surprised when there were still new lows that he could sink to. Each time, it left him feeling a little more hopeless- _how far down can I go?_

“I’m sorry, Jude,” he said quietly, voice thickly laden with shame. _Can’t even get your ass out of bed to take her to school, it’s the only fucking thing you have to do_ , he berated himself as he checked and double-checked and _triple-checked_ that Judith was strapped in properly, always paranoid. He was about to start up the car when Negan came charging out of the house, making a beeline for him with something black clutched in his hands. Rick shook his head, nodding to the car. “I’m goin’. It’s fine-”

Negan stopped short, frowning. “I know. I know, Rick. It’s okay. It’s fucking kindergarten, alright? Even if she _is_ late, it’s not the end of the fucking world.”

Rick knew he meant it, too. Negan was never one to talk out of his ass- not when it came to things like this, anyway- but Rick always had his doubts.

“Here, baby,” Negan murmured, unfolding the jacket he was clutching and tugging it onto Rick’s arms, zipping it tightly. “You’re gonna freeze your cute ass off running her to school in pajamas like that.” Rick could hear it- the note of concern fracturing his playful words. He knew what Negan was really thinking- _it makes me worried that you can’t even be bothered to get dressed when you leave the house. Makes me fucking worried that you don’t give enough of a shit to take care of yourself._

Rick drove Judith to school, simultaneously feeling grateful for and guilty over the jacket. He was halfway home when he realized he’d forgotten to thank Negan, to kiss him goodbye, and that made him feel even worse.

* * *

Negan always picked Judith up from school these days. It meant an extra ten minutes for him to go get her on his commute home from his job teaching at the high school, but after the first three times Rick had slept through her pickup time, he’d stepped up. Rick had been beside himself over it, rabid with self-loathing that he couldn't do something so simple, but Negan had insisted that he didn't mind. _It's barely out of my way, Rick. It's alright. I'm already out anyway. I don't mind, I pinkie-fucking-promise._

Rick left the jacket on when he got home, feebly kicking off his shoes by the front door and crawling back into bed on Negan’s side, inhaling his scent and trying to separate it out from his own. It had gotten harder and harder to differentiate between the two since Negan had moved in, and while Rick had loved it at first, thinking that it meant he and Negan were so intertwined that they had mingled together, now he missed the way he’d been able to so clearly pick out the unique scent of his lover on the sheets long after he’d gone.

Now, everything that was _Negan_ was tainted with _Rick_ , and Rick didn’t find any comfort in himself.

He hated mornings like this- mornings where the house was cold and empty and his bed had a shallow indentation on one side that reminded him of all those horrible, lonely years after Lori had died.

_Except Negan’s not dead and you have no fucking reason to feel lonely._

He did anyway, the ache of it seeping right down into his bones. It made his chest feel like a cavern, not quite hollow but not quite full. He felt _wrong_ , and it made him want to claw at skin and muscle and break through bone until he could rip out whatever was carving up his insides.

Horribly, he felt tears start to leak down his cheeks and soak into the cotton bedsheets. It was always a guessing game as to whether or not he could cry on any given day. Sometimes, he’d slump next to the bed and heave great shaking sobs into his arms while he buried his face into the knees of his flannel pajama pants, blubbering pathetically until snot ran down his face and he was so worked up that he started dry-heaving into the wastebasket. Others, he would need it so fucking  _badly_ that it burned behind his heavy eyelids and no matter what he did, the tears wouldn’t come.

Today, he just let them drip until the sheets had soaked through before he blew his nose, rubbing at his puffy eyes.

He didn’t want to take a shower, didn’t want to move, but that had been one of the little things that Negan had begged and pleaded with him to do every day. He’d done it with such love, such tenderness in his eyes even as he’d looked so utterly heartbroken when Rick had refused to go see someone- _a doctor, a counselor, someone to just prescribe you something to get you back on your feet-_

He knew he should go. Should talk to someone, should find a medication that would at least help him get out of bed in the morning.

Instead, he took the smallest possible steps forward with Negan’s patient pleading. He fed himself, usually. He took showers most days.

He tried to avoid looking in the mirror when he did it, not wanting to see the tired, grey, haggard-looking man that stared back at him with dull eyes and slumped posture. He caught sight of himself once as he’d stripped, a few weeks back. He’d never been one to think much of his looks to begin with, but now? Now, it made him want to shrink into his own skin and hide. He’d spent a week dodging Negan’s advances and tender kisses sprinkled over his neck and shoulders. He’d shook him off again and again when they’d crawled into bed together and Negan’s hands had begun to wander, and at first Negan had written it off as just one more victim Rick’s morose mood.

The truth of it was that Rick still adored being close to Negan in that way, even if he wasn’t always in the mood for it. Even if he sometimes found himself going soft in the middle of it for no apparent reason, even if he didn’t get off, it still felt good, and he still liked being so close to the man he loved. He just hated how he looked, was ashamed of the way his body, once lithe and muscular thanks to his job, had begun to look just as withered and weary as he felt.

Negan had shut that down as soon as he’d caught on, lavishing Rick with affection and praise, sealing his lips to every sliver of bare skin he could get his mouth on. Had called him all the things he had before, when Rick had felt like he had a chance of deserving them: _beautiful, sweet, gorgeous, so sexy, Rick. Mine, all mine, no matter fucking what._

It didn’t _fix_ anything exactly. He didn’t wake up the next morning able to look at himself in the eye or feel beautiful when Negan saw him undressing. But it was _something_ , it made him feel a little lighter, and Negan wasn’t the kind of guy to give up quickly, so he kept at it.

Today, Rick kept his head low as he took his clothes off and stepped into the shower. It was always better when he got underneath the spray of the water, because it was warm. Warm and steamy, fogging up the glass stall so that he felt like he was removed from the world while he was inside. It made his eyelids droop, his muscles lax and loose, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a minute, let the water massage out the tension gathered in his shoulders…

“Rick!”

Rick jerked awake, freezing cold and naked against the damp tile wall of the shower stall with Negan standing over him, looking like he always seemed to look these days- concerned.

“Fell asleep,” Rick croaked with chattering teeth, shivering and hating that he was the reason that Negan looked so damn _sad_.

He let himself be tugged up into strong, steadying arms and propped up against the marble countertop while Negan grabbed a towel off the hook on the back of the door and began to rub him dry.

“You’re fucking freezing, Rick,” Negan sighed. “How long were you in there?”

“I…” He didn’t know. He hung his head, resting it against Negan’s collarbone as his eyes fluttered closed. “I don’t know,” he whispered, feeling his throat get thick. “I’m sorry.”

Negan’s hands stuttered to a stop for a moment before he crushed Rick to his chest, one hand sliding up to stroke through wet, curling hair. “No, baby. It’s…you don’t need to be fucking sorry.” He kissed Rick’s temple, his cheekbone, down to his lips, and Rick wanted to respond, he _did_ , but he felt so fucking heavy, like moving his lips would shake the earth beneath his feet.

“C’mere, baby. C’mon.” Negan scooped Rick into his arms as easily as if he were a kitten, carrying him into their bedroom and setting him on the edge of the bed. Rick watched as he rooted through drawers for clean clothes, allowing Negan to dress him as if he was a ragdoll, boxers sliding up and then a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. He kneeled at the edge of the bed, looking up at Rick with those gorgeous hazel eyes that even now made Rick feel weak in the knees.

“Tell me what you need, Rick. Please. Anything, and it’s yours. I don’t…I don’t fucking know how to help you, baby.”

Rick hated how much it took just to unstick the words from his throat, to lift one hand to cup his lover’s stubbled cheek. “Just lay with me for a little while? Please?” Like that wasn’t what he’d been doing all day. Memory suddenly struck him, and he dropped his hand, ashamed at his own selfish thoughtlessness. “Judith. She’s…did you get her?”

Negan nodded, rising to stand and shucking off his jeans. “I did. She’s at Michonne’s, having a playdate with Andre. She’s fine, baby. Right now I want to take care of _you_.” He crawled into bed, patting the empty space beside him. “So let me.”

Rick gratefully slid into Negan’s open arms, pressing his face into the comfort of the taller man’s broad chest and clinging tight. Negan twined their legs together, cheek resting atop Rick’s still-damp hair. Cocooned in blankets and cuddled up with Negan pressed close, he felt warm and safe.

“I made an appointment with Doctor Cloyd,” Negan murmured. “Is that alright? It’s after school, so I can take you.” When Rick didn’t immediately respond, Negan hugged him tighter. “I just want to help you, Rick. I know it won’t fix anything. I know _I_ can’t fix anything. But you don’t need to be fixed. You just need some help. Please let me fucking help you, baby.”

Rick nodded, hands sliding up Negan’s back to clutch at his shoulders. “Okay.”

He hadn’t realized that Negan was so tense until the man relaxed against him, melting into their embrace. “I love you, Rick. So fucking much.”

Rick breathed out slowly, matching his breaths with the steady, soothing ones of the man holding him. “I love you, too.”


End file.
